


hierolatry

by KiriKay



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Ai Mikaze Is Extreme Competent, Dancing, M/M, Touch-Starved, Touchy-Feely, deadass dont wanna tag everyone dkjfgldf, specifically a mix to bachata and salsa which is what i know how to dance lMAO
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 21:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15204083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiriKay/pseuds/KiriKay
Summary: Hierolatry, the worship of saints or sacred things.Or: where dance practice leads to holier things.





	hierolatry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dirtmemer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtmemer/gifts).



> hey al, this is for you, FUCK you

It’s no secret Ai is good at his job. It’s just a secret that he turns out to be a spectacular dancer underneath all the sass and sarcasm. Of course, it’s no surprise to his juniors who have long since become accustomed to Ai’s corrections, and it seems like Quartet Night knows it pretty well too, so really it's only the rest of Starish that's out of the loop.

They're practicing together one day, just a group of idiot idols trying to get their choreography done, when it comes up. Everyone is taking a break, and the chatting is warm and amicable.

“How did you guys do with the fight choreography for Trois?” Otoya asks curiously, always a sucker for anything that involved stabbing or running on stage.

“Syo had the upper hand, since he’s used to doing fights.” Ai admits from where he’s sitting ramrod straight in the middle of the floor, stretching his legs.

“You had an advantage over me too.” Camus accuses casually; Cecil is sprawled out next to him, whining into Camus’s thigh in a low purr.

“Dance isn't the same as fighting.” Ai shoots back.

“Maybe but your sword fighting was the smoothest.” Syo says, nudging Ren lightly with his shoulder. “Ren is the only one I know who moves that smooth aside from you!”

“Oh? Aimi is a dancer?” Ren asks curiously, smiling.

“Hardly. It’s part of my job.” Ai says.

“Hell nah.” Ranmaru yells out from clear across the room, leaning against the mirror wall with Reiji. “You do some Black Swan shit every day we have to practice. Fuckin’ twerp making us all look like chumps.”

Ai side eyes Ranmaru before flipping his fringe behind his shoulder dramatically. Laughter bubbles across the room, and Ranmaru’s protests are met by Ai flipping him off.

“Ai-chan is really good at dancing though.” Natsuki says earnestly, eyes glowing, and even Ai doesn't have to heart to argue with that. “He’s very cute when he gets into it!”

“Maybe Mikaze can show us some of his talents.” Masato says, a soft suggestion strengthened by Tokiya’s agreeing hum.

“This is discrimination.” Ai mutters under his breath as he stands up, and Reiji cheers loudly. “Be quiet.”

“How can I be quiet when you're going to dazzle us all?” Reiji says in the proudest big brother voice he can manage as Ai walks over to him.

“Move to the other wall.” Ai demands, poking Ranmaru with the tip of his shoe. “I need space.”

Without waiting for a response but no doubt hearing Ranmaru grumble, Ai goes to where the speaker is and hunkers down to grab Reiji’s phone. As he’s flicking through songs, there’s indistinct shuffling that he tries to not think about. He lazily kicks his sneakers off, deciding to leave his socks on; if he slips, falls, and dies, then he’ll accept it as what he deserves and die peacefully.

“Do [Danse Macabre](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyknBTm_YyM) _ , _ ” Camus suggests.

“That's seven minutes long!” Ai protests, and when he turns around to give Camus a  _ look,  _ he finds his audience sat neatly against the opposite wall, watching intently. “. . . This is discrimination. I'm not even wearing the right shoes for this.” Ai chooses the song, moving onto the middle of the floor. “Couldn't choose something cuter?”

“No.” Camus says pleasantly.

_ Danse Macabre _ has a very soft start, a gentle ease into death. Ai sets his arms to his side demurely, turning towards his peers. It's kind of hard to even try and stand en pointe, so he does his best to just keep his balance instead. There’s an eerie grace that has to be put into  _ Danse Macabre, _ the the weight of life giving way to the lightness of an end; there's a sharpness to every note, and Ai feels like his moves are too messy to properly show the tightrope Camille Saint-Saëns achieves but he’s really not at his prime. The music escalates, and his feet hit the ground progressively harder, a hypnotizing rhythm cut by a drop in the music.

It’s really a lovely piece, mixing in daily mania with the quiet of the moments in between, intercutting its stillness with bursts of life. Ai’s favorite part is the end  though; it refuses to end with a bang, instead lulling its way into uneasy silence with a sure hand. Ai decides to end on a closed pose, graceful but jagged.

“Ai  _ is _ a black swan.” Tokiya says, and Ai laughs, dropping his head so that his forehead hits his bent knee.

“Told ya so.” Ranmaru says.

They're clapping and Ai flops back onto his ass, giving them all a faint smile.

“Thank you, but it all comes down to practice.” Ai says, before kicking out his leg to poke Ren. “Ren should dance next, he's your dancer right?”

“Yeah Ren, you should dance!” Otoya says with a playful grin.

“I can't dance by myself,” Ren insists as he stands, and Masato makes a long suffering noise from where he's sitting between Otoya and Tokiya; they squeeze him slightly between their shoulders in sympathy. “Since it takes two to tango.”

“Do you ever stop?” Masato laments. “You don’t even  _ do _ tango anymore.”

Ai huffs when Ren offers his hand, but he takes it and let's Ren pull him to his feet.

“I just danced.” Ai complains, letting Ren drag him back to the speaker. “How do you even know if I can dance to whatever you’re thinking of?”

“You're talented and clever,” Ren says, winking at Ai. “I'm sure you know something.”

“You only ever compliment me when you need healing or you want to show off.” Ai deadpans.

“Maybe I want to show  _ you _ off.”

“ _ Maybe _ you want me to pocket heal you in tonight’s raid.”

“That would be admittedly pleasant.”

Ai rolls his eyes as Ren picks a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ns9YYSqLxyI), a brassy, warm salsa that Ai is unaccustomed to dancing to. Ren easily takes the lead, and Ai let's him.

“If you step on my toes I'm choosing DPS and shooting the shit out of you.” Ai mumbles under his breath, looking down at their feet. Ren snorts unattractively and pulls Ai in by a hand on his waist; Ai settles his hand on Ren’s shoulder with a pout.

“What, want to stand on my feet for good measure?”

Ai flicks Ren’s ear as he guides them through the first verse, throwing Ai in for a loop when he spins him. Ai balances on his toes without thinking about it,  _ en pointe hurts without proper shoes, ow, ow, _ he realizes, and he let's the smooth glide of his socks pull him through. Ren is quick to notice, and avoids surprising Ai with more twirls; instead, he guides Ai out and away from him, and Ai knows enough to spin himself back into Ren’s arms. Back pressed to Ren’s chest, Ai stumbles a little. The closeness is bizarre. He resists flinching.

It's obvious Ai only knows the basics, but Ren is good at guiding Ai and Ai is nothing if not quick on the uptake. It’s all in all not a bad dance, and their group claps heartily when they're done.

“You show so much restraint,” Ai says drily. “Didn't even dip me once.”

“It was hard to resist, I admit.” Ren tease, and Ai nudges him annoyingly.

“You two make good dance partners!” Natsuki says, beaming.

“Yeah, it was great!” Syo approves

“Maybe Aimi will humor me one day and practice with me personally.” Ren says, throwing his arm around Ai’s shoulders.

“Maybe then Ai-Ai will get all that energy out of him.” Reiji sing-songs, and Ai crosses his arms defensively.

“Maybe.” is what Ai says.

* * *

Thing is, Ai  _ likes _ learning new things; he’s curious, and he has the resources to learn, and so he  _ does.  _ Dancing wasn’t necessarily a private matter, but it had always been a lonely one; perfectionism and humans had never mixed well for Ai, especially not at the beginning of his life, so he had never really taken to practicing with others, let alone dancing with them. Choreography was one thing, and while he got cross with Quartet Night regularly, it had gotten easier since the movements were mechanical to the song.

Romantic dances like the ones Ren favored always had an aspect of sudden decisions being made, of trusting someone to lead correctly, and of improvising on the spot together; it was closeness and heat and passion. It was everything Ai was uncomfortable with, and that made it all the more tempting to learn. So.

_ So. _

So maybe practicing with Ren would be interesting. Ren had seemed perfectly agreeable to the idea. Ai texts him.

[Can you teach me how to dance like you do?] Ai sends one night where he feels restless.

[Of course Aimi~] Ren replies quickly, and Ai smiles a little.

* * *

Ren is surprised that teaching Ai how to dance is a lot harder than the thought it would be. Ai is earnest in his attempts to adapt, but his movements are too rigid and cut off. Thinking maybe he just isn't used to following, Ren teaches Ai how to lead and lets him try it out for size; somehow, he seems even  _ more _ uncomfortable that way, unable to decide on how to move when the music changes tempo. The mounting frustration on his face finally drives Ren to gently grab Ai’s arms and still him.

“Ai,” Ren says, projecting his effortless calm. “What's the problem.”

“I can't get the hang of it.” Ai says crossing his arms. “It's too unfamiliar to me.”

Ren gives Ai a good look, feels the way Ai coils into himself under Ren’s hands, and maybe Ren doesn't understand  _ everything _ about Ai but he understands quite a bit. Behind a screen, Ai is impeccable, and on his own he’s endlessly graceful, but people create an unease in Ai when they’re in his bubble. Ren is too comfortable with others to  _ not _ be able to identify the way Ai is unsettled by touch.

“If you want to try another style--” Ren starts, but Ai shakes his head quickly.

“No, I'll get it right.” Ai insists stubbornly, and Ren laughs.

“Then let's try another teaching style,” he says. “Take off your shoes.”

Ai blinks but complies, watching as Ren also takes his shoes off and lines them against the wall. Ren waves Ai over, and they get into a starting position; Ren rests a hand on Ai’s waist, and waits for Ai to take the other hand in his and hold onto his shoulder.

“I need you to trust me.” Ren says.

“I do.” Ai replies simply, tilting his head to the side.

“Close your eyes.”

Ai purses his lips, giving Ren a threatening look before closing his eyes.

“Take a deep breath,” Ren continues, pulling Ai in as he does what he’s told. “I need you to trust me to guide you. You start to overthink what you're doing, so now you're just going to trust me to lead you. We'll do the basic four step around the room, okay?”

“. . . Okay.” Ai mutters, shoulders stiff.

Ren begins slow, guiding Ai in wide, lazy circles. Ai shuts his eyes a little tighter, struggling to keep himself in line even as his head tilts down thoughtlessly. Then, Ren starts  _ talking.  _ The smooth cadence of his voice pours over Ai, words completely mindless in its chatter. Ai can't focus on answering as he tries to keep up with Ren, but it's doing its job; Ai rests his forehead on Ren’s shoulder, body slowly unfurling from its regal position.

“--There you go,” Ren praises with a grin. “You're already getting better, Aimi.”

Ai stumbles, and Ren laughs good naturedly; sweeping Ai up in a hug and taking his weight, Ren spins them. Ai makes a shocked noise mixed with a choked giggle, arms wrapping around Ren’s shoulders.

“There you go thinking again.” Ren chides as he drops Ai.

“It’s what I do best!” Ai says defensively, twisting his lips to the side.

“We'll keep working on it.”

Ai shoves Ren lightly but doesn't disagree.

* * *

“You're going to die.” Masato says plainly from his desk when Ren returns.

“Probably, but I won't give up.” Ren replies with ease.

“At least you chose someone smart this time.”

* * *

It’s quite the learning curve, but Ren is patient and Ai is consistent. Once Ai can finally nail the basic steps without throwing himself into a tizzy, they start to try new things.

Ai likes [new things](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQSaof3b_aE&index=5&t=0s&list=LLnW__nMYRHytsKBDCHz2JiA). Those new things are going to kill him. Kill him nice and slow, because those things involve him and Ren pressed together rolling into each other. It’s hard to not shiver at every interaction, body wholly unused to the feeling of another person so close, to the warm consideration of kind hands and the insistence of  _ lean on me. _

It hits a fever pitch when Ai does something stupid. Okay-- maybe not  _ stupid, _ just  _ thoughtless. _ They were going to practice tonight, but Ai had to go directly from shooting to the studio, so he tosses some comfortable clothes into his bag and leaves running. Ai didn't really think to check the clothes beyond seeming comfortable enough to dance in, and now Ai can never take off his sweater again. He'll overheat and die and that's that.

“Are you sure it's okay for you to exercise in that?” Ren asks while they’re stretching. “It looks too thick to be comfortable.”

“I'm not taking it off.”

“. . . Why not?”

“I made a mistake.”

Ren still looks confused, slowly raising an eyebrow at Ai.

“Did you somehow forget a shirt?”

“No.”

Silence.

“It really can't be that bad.” Ren insists.

“Oh, it really is.”

“C'mon now Aimi!”

Ai scrubs his cheeks for a moment, contemplating just getting up and leaving, but he actually feels kind of stuck in the split he was currently holding. After a minute of silence, Ai resigns to his fate and peels off his sweater to reveal what he's wearing underneath. The  _ very _ ugly snort Ren lets out confirms all of Ai’s fears and he throws himself back, closing his legs to curl up and die on his side

“Oh my God,” Ren wheezes. “Did Nacchan get you that?”

_ That _ is a bright yellow crop top with a Piyo-chan face on the front and a calligraphy “princess” on the back. Ai had confused it for an equally bright yellow Adidas shirt and hadn't bothered to check. He regrets being alive with a passion.

“I’m leaving, with my jacket on, and I'm never coming back.” Ai half-yells, not moving; Ren scoots over and gently pushes at Ai’s hip until he’s flat on his back.

“It's funny!” Ren admits, poking one of Ai’s flaming cheeks. “But you don't look bad at all.”

“At least I'm wearing black pants.” Ai concedes, picking at his yoga pants. “Avoided making it worse.”

“You should definitely invest into more of these~” Ren coos, winking winningly as he tugs one of Ai’s sleeves.

“I have more than enough.” Ai laughs out as he sits up.

“Does that mean you own more than one crop top, because now I'm invested.”

Ai shoves at Ren a little, rolling his eyes, but Ren’s arm is still half draped across Ai’s stomach and the casual closeness is intoxicating. Warmth radiates from the touch, hand pressed against his hip, and Ai looks into the mirror instead of at Ren.

“I do, in fact, own more crop tops,” Ai confesses, talking over Ren’s whistle. “I almost never wear them, and never alone, usually over something else. I actually own a white mesh one exclusively for layering.”

“I wouldn't mind seeing you in them more.” Ren teases, voice edging on something genuine, and Ai huffs.

“Are you done?” Ai asks, giving Ren a dry look. “I could just dance by myself, you know.”

“I know Aimi, I know,” Ren says, ruffling the loose section of Ai’s hair with a small smile. “That's why it's such a privilege to dance with you.”

“Kiss ass.” Ai says with no heat. “Let’s get started.”

It’s really, ultimately, the best and worst choice of words in the end. They do get started, and Ai feels  _ good, _ feels excess energy burning out of his muscles like someone loosened a guitar’s strings, and Ren looks happy enough to finally be able to brush up his skills. But then Ai is pressed chest-to-chest with Ren, Ren’s thin black tank top doing nothing to stop the feeling of his torso against the exposed parts of Ai’s stomach, and all his energy returns. It's like a bolt chasing up through his body, following the sway of the music, and Ai holds his breath until they're apart again.

He  _ knows _ that's not normal, but a lot of odd things had become  _ normal _ since they started practicing. Like the shivers. Ren was a warm person, handsy to a degree but always kind despite any intentions; it was the kind of touch Ai had never had the chance to become accustomed to. He refused to let his reactions go unchecked though, so he’d begun leaving the dance studio later than Ren.

“Solo practice” had become code for “laying down on the floor and letting the shudders have their way until everything is normal again”.

That night was the longest solo practice Ai had indulged in yet.

* * *

“He was wearing a crop top.” Ren laments, face down on the bed. In a lower voice, he mutters, “He's so pretty.”

“Mhm.” Masato replies thoughtlessly as he reads.

“He's so pretty I'm going to die.”

“That's nice.”

* * *

So maybe Ai let's the crop tops mix into his dance clothing. They help with the overheating. And as he lays on the floor, eyes shut, the chill pouring into his skin with his legs lazily sprawled out, he regrets the choice.

You can't hide shudders that start at your shoulders and make their way to your feet in a crop top, Ai finds out when Ren walks right back into the room after Ai was sure he’d been long gone.

“Aimi--”

Ai closes his eyes and purses his lips because  _ of course _ Ren would come in at  _ this exact moment. _ It really is fascinating, Ai thinks as Ren asks him what's wrong, kneels next to Ai’s head, places his hand to Ai’s cheek. Ai tries to still himself, but his fingers curl blissfully into the floorboards as he nuzzles into the touch.

“Oh my,” Ren whispers, seemingly thrown off balance. “Oh darling, what is it?”

“It’s ridiculous.” Ai grinds out, but then Ren is cupping his face in both hands and he arches up.

“ _ Ai. _ ” Ren insists again, something breathless in his voice and Ai shuts his eyes tighter.

“The way you touch me is-- makes me feel like I'm going crazy.” Ai finally admits, feeling heat bloom across his face.

A hand drifts away from Ai’s face and Ai whines at the loss; then the hand is on Ai’s bare waist and things are very,  _ very _ good again.

“I thought something like this was the problem at first,” Ren says, hand rubbing up and down Ai’s side slowly. “But I didn't know you were so starved for touch.”

“It feels so good.” Ai confesses, lifting his arms to hide his face; he feels vulnerable, and ridiculous, and wildly human, and he doesn't want keep embarrassing himself but it feels unbearably pleasant to have someone pet him gently.

“Hey, that’s alright Aimi,” Ren says, coaxing Ai’s arms back down; the nickname puts Ai at ease, and when Ren leans down and presses his lips to Ai’s forehead adoringly, Ai feels the tension in his body snap like a tether. “I don't mind taking care of you if you'd let me.”

“Okay,” Ai says weakly, something akin to hope burning in his chest behind a thundering pulse. “I’d like that.”


End file.
